Lou, Steve, James, Ron & Mike: Reflections on a Day Spent With the Homeless

Leaving work last Thursday, I bundled up to brave the cold and prepared to make my seemingly long journey over to Trolley Plaza to get to my vehicle. I hurried as the wind whipped through me, remembering that this day was predicted to be the coldest of the season. After making it to the refuge of my car, I began to plan my evening’s activities, which, for the most part, consisted of preparing dinner for my family, slipping into my cozy pajamas and snuggling up under my leopard-print comforter to watch television.

As I settled into the comfort of home, I began to collect my thoughts and reflect on my day as I normally do at the bedtime. Suddenly, I was struck with this vague feeling of uneasiness.

As I listened to the wind rap against my windows, I couldn’t help but to think of the persons I’d met that day; the people whom, contrary to my preconceived beliefs, have so much in common with myself: the homeless.

I thought about “Lou”, the college-degreed man who could not work in his field due to a stroke. I thought about “Steve”, the articulate antique dealer, who once owned a lucrative business. And then there was “James”, the witty and comical former van driver, who wished he could be more involved with his grandchildren. I thought about how “Ron”, who eventually wishes to work to help the homeless, admits to sometimes having to search trash dumpsters for food.

Each of these people touched me in a unique way, either with their gregarious personalities, their talents, their strengths and resourcefulness or their challenges. Beneath the superficial image of weathered clothing were unique individuals with stories of all their own. They eagerly spoke of lives they had when they were younger. They talked about their education, their families, their dreams and aspirations. At the same time, I was amazed at how candidly they expressed their challenges and details about how they became homeless.

What struck me the most was how homelessness affects one’s pride, self-confidence and sense of self-worth. Many of them told me that the stigma attached to being homeless causes them to be turned away from job interviews, housing and other help that they need. How dehumanizing! “You should try dressing like me. Go walk around looking like I look and try to get some help.See how people treat you,” “Mike” said. Several of them told me that they had gotten so discouraged by their experiences that they had given up hope.

So, as I sat in my warm bed with my full stomach, taking the simple things for granted, I could not get their faces out of my mind. Lou. Steve. James. Ron. Mike. What were they doing right at that moment? Were they indoors or out? Had they eaten? How would they survive the night? How could I help the weary soul of the person who feels forgotten about?

I wished that I had a place for each of them to go, clean and fitting clothes for them to wear and enough food for them to eat. I wished that I could help them put all of their talents to use. I wished that I could give them hope. I wanted them to know that they were not forgotten about…I knew that I would never forget about them.

Kristen Bolds
Research Associate
United Way 2-1-1